What happens when isolation becomes a catalyst for change?

A month of self-imposed isolation, an experience that many romanticise as a wellspring of creativity, profoundly impacted Quicche’s music and mental health. In a time when isolation feels all too familiar for many, whether self-imposed or otherwise, this period forced him to confront his own vulnerabilities. In this conversation, we explore the reality of that time, delving into how isolation reshaped him—not just as an artist, but as a person.

Isolation is often romanticised as a wellspring of creativity, but the reality can be much harder. What was your personal experience like during that month of self-isolation?

It was definitely a mix of both. Isolation, for me, is a source of creativity, but it's also incredibly draining—emotionally and mentally. That month forced me to confront things I usually avoid, and it was only through not being able to escape that I began to work through those issues. The lyrics on my album Frisia reflect a lot of that—things I couldn’t ignore because there was nothing else to distract me. I admit I romanticised it at times, but the truth is, it was tough. Still, I dealt with issues in those four weeks that would’ve taken me years to process under normal circumstances. So, despite how hard it was, there were definitely positive outcomes.

You mentioned that you “lost your mind” during the process of creating this album. Can you elaborate on how that emotional turbulence influenced your music? Were there moments when it felt impossible to continue?

Oh, for sure. I had this ridiculous idea of completing an entire album within a month, and I treated the possibility of failure as a personal defeat. When three weeks had gone by and I hadn’t made much progress, I fell into a dark place. It wasn’t until I had some heart-to-heart conversations with close friends that I let go of the pressure I’d placed on myself to finish an album in that timeframe. Ironically, once I relaxed about it, everything just flowed, and I ended up with an album. The emotional turbulence is all over the lyrics. It’s a deep dive into the fragile thoughts I had at the time.

Your single “Red Eyes” feels incredibly raw and emotional. What part of your isolation experience does this track reflect?

“Red Eyes” was crucial for me during that time. I’d been carrying around this overwhelming sense of powerlessness, mostly stemming from all the negativity around me that I didn’t feel I could communicate. The frustration of not being able to do anything about it was really heavy. Writing “Red Eyes” was my way of letting go of that burden. It was the track that allowed me to release all that built-up emotion.

With James Blake also starting at R&S, there’s an interesting parallel between his introspective style and your approach. Did his music influence how you navigated this album, and did you see any reflections of your own journey in his work?

There are some clear parallels, especially with both of us starting at R&S. We also share a background in more traditional music before moving to electronic, and our introspective, narrative-driven styles have similarities. But ultimately, I see James Blake as an artist who has transitioned from jazz, soul, and classical to electronic, while I come from folk and indie. So while our stories might sound similar, our paths and outcomes feel very different.

Now that the album is complete, how has that month of isolation changed you as both an artist and a person? What lessons or perspectives do you take with you moving forward?

That’s a big question. First, it’s really enriched my experience. The fact that it worked out in the end reminded me that sometimes, putting yourself in extreme situations is the best way to spark creativity. But I don’t think I can repeat that. You can’t live through the same scenario twice—you have to keep evolving, facing new challenges, and deciding what works for you based on where you are in life at that moment.

As you reflect on your journey and the upcoming release, is there anything else you'd like to share about the process or the themes that shaped your work?

I’ll always remember the confusion and insecurity I felt when I left Frisia. I listened to the songs one last time and wasn’t sure if they were any good. The fact that people connect with the album now means so much to me—thank you for that. It’s incredible to see how something so personal can resonate with others.

Follow Quicche

Cover photo by Timo Vogt